


Letting Go

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Resurrection Stone, very brief contemplation of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: When Albus is killed in the fight against Delphi, Scorpius is determined to find a way to bring his best friend back. He’s read about the Resurrection Stone, which Harry took with him into the forest on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. If he can find it, it’ll be as if Albus was never dead at all…





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking about writing this for a long time, and have only just worked up the courage to do it. The discovery that I hadn’t yet written any Scorbus dark angst was the final inspiration. I don’t expect this to be many people’s cup of tea, but if you do read it, I hope I’ve done the subject justice and told a good story. 
> 
> Beta'd by Abradystrix and Brief_and_Dreamy.

Albus is on fire with fear and adrenaline. His heart pounds, and he's never been so determined about anything in his life. He kneels beside the grate and stares grimly down at it. "I can fit through. I can help him." He glances up at the others. "I-I'll open the doors and let you out." 

His mum crouches behind him and grasps his arm. "You shouldn't do it. It's too dangerous. Your- your father is a very capable wizard and an excellent Auror," she swallows, like she's taking a second to try and convince herself. "He can handle himself." 

Draco nods. "I agree. We should find another way to get the doors open. Maybe Bombarda, or-"

"She's disarmed him," Albus interrupts, looking right into his mum's eyes. "But I can crawl through, get him a wand, and we can all fight together. I  _promise_ I can do this." His hands are shaking and he doesn't feel nearly as confident as he sounds.

"And what if she curses you?" His mum asks, running her hands over his shoulders, holding onto him, holding him back.

"Then I'll have died fighting her," he says with a shaky smile. He throws his arms round his mum and hugs her tight. "I love you, Mum." 

She grips him. "Don't do this. You don't have to-"

"We'll find another way," Draco says, striding over to the door and putting all his weight on it. "Scorpius, help me." Scorpius hesitates, seeming torn, then he rushes across to help his dad. 

Albus watches him go, then slips from his mum's arms and swings his feet into the hole. She grasps hold of his shoulder. 

"Albus, stay here. Don't go through. There are other ways."

"But I want to, Mum," he argues. "I'll be fine." 

She shakes her head. "No, come and help us with the door." She takes hold of Albus's hand and pulls him up. He goes with her reluctantly, but stares back at the dark hole in the floor. As much as Delphi terrifies him, the fact they're fighting her is his fault, and he wants to help defeat her. He needs to help his dad, because if anything happens to him...

"Do you think we could saw through the doors?" Draco asks, glancing round at them.

"I wish I could remember that fancy lock-picking spell George is always going on about," Ginny says, letting go of Albus and dragging her hands through her hair as she paces up and down. 

"Maybe we can unscrew the hinges?" Scorpius suggests, chewing his fingernails. 

Albus listens to them only vaguely. He can't take his eyes off the open grate. Maybe if he made a run for it... Then his mum wouldn't be able to stop him. Whatever they do, they need to do it fast. They don't have long.

His hands shaking and his heart thuds in his chest. His mum doesn't want him to do this, but- He glances around to check that Ginny and Draco are focused on the door, then starts walking purposefully back to the grate. If he runs his footsteps will give him away. 

Scorpius is watching him. He only realises it when he sits down on the edge of the grate and sees his best friend open his mouth to say something. He puts a finger to his lips to tell Scorpius to keep quiet, and Scorpius swallows and shoots him a desperate look. Albus gives him thumbs up and a shaky smile. 

Scorpius shakes his head. "Albus," he says, like he can't help himself. He takes several steps forward, and as he does, Ginny and Draco both turn round. 

"Albus, don't!" Ginny cries, rushing toward him, but Albus doesn't waste another second. He snatches up the two wands and slithers through the hole. 

His mum's hands grab at him, catching at his hoodie and his hair, but he ducks underneath and starts crawling, not looking back. It's dusty and dirty down here. It smells musty and a bit damp. The air is thick and it's difficult to breathe, especially as he crawls along and stirs up more dust motes. From somewhere overhead he can hear Delphi's voice, high and cold.

"The question is whether it's worth my time to kill you, knowing that as soon as I stop my father, your destruction will be assured... How to decide? Oh, I'm bored. I'll kill you." 

There's an almighty crash from up above, and Albus throws himself through the dark space. The grate in the nave is overhead now, candlelight streaming down through the wrought iron curlicues. He rushes to his feet and throws it open, just as Delphi begins to scream, "Avada-"

"Dad!" Albus shouts, pulling himself up.

Harry looks at him, wild eyed. "Albus! No!" 

Delphi laughs, and Albus looks up at her, transfixed by the terrifying aura of power around her. She's in her element, playing with them, and he doesn't know where to go or what to do. 

"Two of you," she crows, utterly gleeful. "Choices, choices. I think I'll kill..." Her wand moves slowly between them, and Albus readies himself to duck behind the bench or dive at his dad. "The boy first. Avada Kedavra."

There's a flash of green light, and Albus is thrown sideways as a solid body hits him and barrels him out of the way. His dad scrambles off him, to his feet, grabbing one of the wands from his hand and pointing it at Delphi. 

"You think you're stronger than me?" She asks, incredulous, mocking, enjoying every second of this.

"No, I'm not," Harry says, sending a bolt of fire at her, forcing her to dodge. "But we are." 

Albus gets to his feet. "Alohomora!" He shouts, pointing his wand at the door where his mum and Scorpius and Draco are waiting. It springs open, and he turns to the other door. "Aloho-"

"Avada Kedavra," Delphi snarls. 

A flash of green. A rush of wind. And then-

\---

Scorpius walks his fingers along the leather spines of the books. It's the morning of the 7th of November and he's never been happier to be back in the library. The week has been pure hell. A day in St Mungo's for shock and to look for any after-effects of the torture, then going home and trying to talk to his dad, followed by the funeral and everything that went along with it... And his mind had been racing the whole time. Running at a thousand miles an hour, too fast for him to keep up, a whirl of ideas and theories and things to try out. 

And now he's finally free. Free and in his natural habitat. Ready to sort things out. 

He picks out his favourite copy of  _The Boy Who Lived: Tales of a Year on the Run_ , and throws himself into a seat, already flicking through the pages to the final few chapters. There should be something in here about it, about the night of the battle, but if there isn't he can turn to countless other books that he knows for sure will give him the answers he needs.

He's just found the page he needs when someone sits opposite him, and he glances up. 

Rose. Looking deadly serious. Worried, even. There's none of the usual shine in her eyes, but Scorpius is used to that by now. It's always been this way. When you lose someone it's like all the lights go out for a while, but he's used to losing people. He knows what it feels like, and he knows what he can do about it.

"Hello, Rose," he says, looking back down at his book and starting to scan the words. 

"You're in the library," she says. 

"Very observant," he replies, not glancing up. "Was it all the books that gave it away by any chance?"

Rose sighs and shuffles forward in her chair. " _Why_ are you in the library? I know you don't have any homework. But here you are, reading about-" she peers at the front of his book. "Harry." 

"I'm looking for answers," Scorpius says. He snaps the book shut. It's useless, glazing over some of the most important points of the battle, and all the bits he cares about.

He bounces to his feet and picks out  _The Battle of Hogwarts: An In Depth and Essential Guide to the Last Stand Against He Who Must Not Be Named_. 

"Answers to what?" Rose asks. "Scorpius..." She pauses, and he can feel her looking at him. "Don't you think you should, I don't know, give it a few days? Before you go rushing around? He was your best friend, and-"

Scorpius looks up from his book, staring up at the shelves and taking a deep breath, frustration coursing through him already. "If you're trying to tell me how to grieve, then-"

"I'm not!" Rose says. She gets to her feet and walks up to him, blocking him in against the book case. "I'm just worried about you, Scorpius. And I think my aunt and uncle are worried about you too. I mean, you don't look-" she gestures to him, and he looks down at himself.

His shirt is untucked, and somehow he's managed to button it unevenly without noticing. He notices that his hair is a mess too. He can feel it all tangled and sticking up, and realises he must look a mess. Quickly he flattens it down, then he spins around and press himself against the book case to get away from her. "Well you don't need to worry, okay? There's nothing to worry about." He looks at her. "You can't just suddenly pretend to care about me. I know you don't, and you never have, so I think you should leave me alone." 

Rose takes a step back, but she doesn't leave. She folds her arms and holds her ground. "I cared about him. And he cared about you, so now I'm going to care about you too. And I won't go away until I know you're not going to do something stupid, so..." She lifts her chin and digs her heels in. "Why are you in the library?" 

Scorpius eyes her for a moment. "I don't trust you not to tell anyone." 

Rose unfolds her arms. "Were you always this frustrating? Or did you learn that from Albus?"

Scorpius flinches at the name, and looks down at his book. "I probably learned it from him. And I'm not telling you anything if you're just going to run off and tell someone."

Rose seems to think for a long few seconds, mind whirring, weighing up whether it's better to know and not tell, or to simply not know. "Fine," she says finally. "I promise, cross my heart, that I won't tell anyone."

Scorpius points the book at her. "Good answer." He turns back to the shelves and pulls out a very thin book,  _Into the Forest_. "What do you know about the Resurrection Stone." 

Rose shakes her head. "No. Scorpius, you can't do that. I'll tell-"

Scorpius whirls round. "You promised you wouldn't tell." 

She stares at him, eyes wide, fear bright in them. "But I didn't know-" 

Scorpius points the book at her, and feels a thousand things welling up inside him. His own fear, the loss, the desperation, the hope. He needs this. It's a chance to get Albus back. In the absence of Time-Turners, this is the last resort. "You promised. You... You promised." 

Rose shakes her head very slowly.

"Please," Scorpius says. The only thing keeping it all at bay has been this one single thought. Without this he has no Albus. He has nothing.

Rose swallows. "...Fine. I-I won't tell, but... well, isn't it lost? It's somewhere in the forest, but people have looked. No one's ever found anything even remotely like it." She takes the book from Scorpius and opens it up. "Harry dropped it. He didn't mean for anyone to find it, and the forest is enormous. Where would you even start looking?" 

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Scorpius says. He leans his shoulder against the bookcase and studies its contents. "There must be a way to work out the route he took. I know someone worked out which clearing the encounter took place in. I just can't remember which book it's in. Did you know it's possible to have read too many books? I didn't realise until now." He bends down and starts picking out books, stacking them up in his arms. "But it's fine. I'll just have to read until I find it." 

"You're really not okay, are you?" Rose says, frowning at him.

"No," Scorpius says. He looks up at her and grins broadly. "But I will be." 

 

On Sunday night he's sitting cross-legged in the middle of Albus's bed, wearing Albus's Christmas jumper from last year. It still smells of him, and when Scorpius is wearing it he can imagine Albus has just gone out to the bathroom or something, and will be back any second, ready to pounce on him and tickle him until he's sobbing from laughter and no longer able to breathe. 

All the hangings are open, his new wand is lit, spreading a pale glow across the emerald sheets, and the book lies in his lap. It's the middle of the night and he's exhausted. His eyes keep blurring and flickering shut, but he can't stop reading. Albus wouldn't stop if this were the other way round.

He rubs his eyes and it feels like he's scrubbing sand into them, but that doesn't stop him. He reaches for another Jelly Slug to give him energy, and presses on. 

_‘There remains much speculation about Harry Potter's journey into the forest that night. It is widely known that he set off towards the end of the one hour ceasefire, and that he took with him the fabled Resurrection Stone, a powerful magical object thought to be one of the Deathly Hallows, believed to bring back loved ones who have died._

_Previously it has not been clear precisely where his encounter with He Who Must Not Be Named took place, but recent searches of the forest have uncovered evidence to suggest that-’_

Scorpius nearly drops the book in excitement. He flails around, manages to grab it before he loses the page, and brings it closer to his face, staring at the words, determined to memorise every single one of them. And when he turns the page there's a diagram of the forest, laying out some approximate routes, and pointing out Harry's destination. 

He claps a hand over his mouth to hold back a squeak of joy. This is it. This is his answer. He's found where to start looking. Now he can search the forest, find the stone, and bring Albus back. 

He marks the page in his book, snatches his wand up, and leaps out of bed. Everyone else in the dorm is fast asleep behind their hangings, so he tiptoes across to get his slippers and dressing gown, skittering over the creaky floorboards so they barely make a sound. He throws his Slytherin scarf on over the top of his pyjamas, dressing gown, and Albus's jumper, and races to the door. 

The castle is still and peaceful. It's the middle of the night, well after curfew, so everyone is asleep. Every step, every breath, seems to disturb the night. If Scorpius wasn't buzzing with adrenaline and excitement he'd be terrified. Shadows pool at the bases of statues and suits of armour, and in the corners of long corridors, held back from dominating the castle by the pale shafts of moonlight that slant in through the windows, and the white light from his wand, which he's holding aloft.

The front doors open at his touch. They creak, the sound echoing off the marble and whinstone, and he stops dead, heart pounding in his chest. Thankfully there's no one other than himself around to hear. The noise fades, and Scorpius sucks his stomach in and wriggles through the crack he's made between the door and the frame. He doesn't want to wait around any longer.

The grounds look very different at night. Mist swirls across the lawn, and walking through it feels like wading through water. It's icy cold, the ground is solid with frost, and overhead the midnight blue sky is unbroken by clouds. There's a full moon up there, an unblinking eye staring down at him as he darts from shadow to shadow across the grass towards the forest. 

When he looks back at the castle there aren't any lights on. Every single one of the thousands of windows is dark. The walls seem to glow though, the pale grey stone picking up the moonlight and reflecting it, amplifying it, like the school is a beacon, like it's calling him home. Except it isn't home anymore, because the person who made it feel like home, who was his only family there, is gone. 

As Scorpius draws level with the lake he lowers his wand and studies the diagram in the book. It seems like Harry entered the forest on a path somewhere near Hagrid's cabin. It shouldn't be too difficult to find. It's not far from the place where Scorpius likes to go and watch the Thestrals sometimes. When Albus comes back he'll be able to see them too; they both saw Craig die. Maybe they can watch them together. 

Scorpius smiles at the thought. Sometimes good can come from the most awful things in life, and that will be one of them. He can already imagine Albus stealing meat from the kitchens and going up to feed them. When the little foal comes and tries to nuzzle his pockets for more food he'll laugh, and the corners of his eyes will crinkle up as he smiles. It'll be beautiful. 

Given new determination by the thought, Scorpius sets off running. His slippers come loose on his feet and he kicks them off. There aren't too many stones or sharp twigs here, just grass and moss, and a few fallen leaves. He can put them on again when he reaches the path into the forest. 

As he approaches Hagrid's cabin he realises that although the curtains are shut, there are lights on inside. Fang is barking, and he hears Hagrid telling him to quiet down. He ducks down and crouches his way round the edge of the bare pumpkin patch. The enormous pumpkins which had been growing there were all carved up for the Halloween feast, although that had ended up being cancelled. All that's left now are frosty mud and roots and leaves. 

It's a relief to leave the pumpkin patch behind without having been noticed. Scorpius keeps low as he darts into the trees, then relaxes as the shadows cover him. This is his bit of the forest, the place he comes on his own and reads. He's safe here, and he knows it well.

His feet are starting to ache from walking barefoot, but there's no reason to run anymore so he slides his slippers back on. Now he's well hidden and the terror of being seen fades away, he realises just how cold it is. He's shivering, and he wishes he'd brought gloves. The best he can do is wrap his thin dressing gown tighter around his body and pull the sleeves of Albus's jumper down over his hands. He hugs himself and rubs his shoulders for warmth as he keeps walking. 

There's a dry stone wall that marks the edge of the Centaur land. This is where the Thestrals congregate, but there are none out tonight. Scorpius has never crossed this wall alone before, but he's going to have to now. The path is just beyond it, and a little thing like trespassing isn't about to stop him. 

He lets himself through the rickety wooden gate and sets off down the path. The mist is thicker here, and he can barely see his feet. Tree roots twist and grab at him as he passes, and he stumbles a few times. Once he ends up sprawling on the path and grazing his hand. Each time he picks himself back up and keeps plodding along. He knows he's making too much noise, and he can feel the eyes of every creature in the forest on him, but he doesn't much care. 

The path gets thinner and twistier. The forest gets darker. The trees close in and grab at his hair and clothes. He almost loses one of his slippers. He grips his wand tighter and holds it higher, trying to see up ahead. The stars are barely visible through the thick canopy overhead now. He's hopelessly lost, and all he can do is keep walking and pray. Pray that he's going the right way and will get there soon. 

The path starts to descend, and his heart beats faster. He's going down into a hollow, the hollow he's read about in so many books. The one where the Acromantula nest used to be. The one which is rumoured to be where Harry Potter was killed. 

Scorpius lowers his wand and looks around. The glare of his wandlight glitters as it falls on the last remnants of what was once an enormous network of webs. There are barely any cobwebs left now, after years of decay, and thankfully there's not a spider in sight.

Scorpius turns round on the spot, light dancing across gnarled tree roots, mossy bits of rock, the black mulch of decaying leaves. 

"Accio Resurrection Stone," he whispers, barely audible, like a whisper of breeze through the branches overhead. 

Nothing happens. He takes a step forward and raises his voice.

"Accio Resurrection Stone."

Still nothing, but it must be here somewhere.

He tucks the book into his pocket and starts sweeping the ground. "Accio Stone. Accio Resurrection Stone. Accio. Accio. Accio." It becomes a desperate gabble, and he starts crawling, running his hands across the ground, searching and searching and searching. 

And as he turns, his foot connects with something small, the size of a large pebble, and it skitters and bounces across the hollow, black surface catching in the light. 

Heart pounding in his mouth, blood rushing through his ears, he scrambles across the ground, and finds it among a pile of old bones. 

He picks it up. It's cold to the touch, but it's the right shape. The right size. A black, moss free stone, bright, faceted. There's a carving on the top face, of a triangle and a circle, and there's a long crack down the middle where Professor Dumbledore had destroyed the Horcrux that once lived inside it. 

This is it. This is it this is it this is it. The Resurrection Stone. He's found it. He's done what no one else has ever done. No one since Harry Potter himself has held this stone, and now it's Scorpius's. Now it's going to bring Albus back. 

He turns the stone over in his fingers. Once. Twice. Three times. He holds his breath. The forest is perfectly still. 

Then he senses it rather than hears it. A stirring behind him. Leaves rustling like someone is there. He whirls around. 

There, standing between two trees, is Albus. Eyes bright green. Black hair a mess. Wearing a blue gilet, a blue striped hoodie, a blue t-shirt, dark jeans. Every detail of him the same as it had been a week ago when he was lost, but now he's found. Scorpius has found him. 

"Albus," Scorpius breathes. 

"Hi," Albus says, and grins.

 

"It's been hell," Scorpius says, hugging the pillow to his chest and looking at Albus. "This whole week has been awful."

"What happened?" Albus asks, leaning back against his headboard and watching Scorpius intently. His face is bright in the wand light. His eyes sparkle like jewels. Scorpius almost can't breathe because he's  _Albus,_ and he's  _here_. He looks even better than Scorpius had remembered, and there's so much intensity in that unblinking gaze that Scorpius can barely handle it. 

He shakes his head and looks down at Albus's blankets. "After you-" He picks at a crease in the fabric and takes a breath. "Well, I-I didn't see what happened really. I know your dad was... He wouldn't let go of you. And someone, I don't know who, maybe all of them, killed Delphi. This curse, it sort of shattered her. And then we all left, we brought you home, and I went with my dad. We didn't talk much, you know, sometimes it's difficult to know where to start. I-I spent a couple of days in hospital, then I got a new wand, and there was- the funeral..." 

"They've already had my funeral?" Albus asks, leaning forward, curious. 

Scorpius nods. "Yes. On Friday." He rubs a bit of dry mud off the side of his slipper. "I don't really know what to tell you. I hated every second of it. It just made me more determined to get you back. And you're here now, so maybe we shouldn't talk about it."

"Scorpius," Albus says, giving him a look. "If you'd died wouldn't you want me to tell you about your funeral?" 

Scorpius meets his eyes. "Every detail." 

"Exactly," he says, eyes bright. "Go on then. Who was there? What was it like? Did anyone cry? Did  _you_ cry?"

Scorpius looks away. "I don't cry at funerals. But your family... Your dad, he- He misses you." 

"Good," Albus says, a sudden sharp, vindictive edge to his voice that makes Scorpius snap up and stare at him. 

"What did you-"

Albus lifts his chin. "I said it's good. Now he knows how Amos Diggory must have felt." 

"You can't say something like that," Scorpius breathes, gaping at him.

Albus shrugs. "I'm dead. I can say anything I want. Anyway." He shifts and crosses his legs. "Tell me about you. Did you miss me? Did you say anything at the funeral? Did you- Oh, did you leave any sweets or anything at my grave?" He grins as he says it, and a chill passes through Scorpius's whole body. There's something about that grin. It doesn't quite make Albus's face shine the way it should. The way it did before.

Scorpius ducks his head and tries not to think about that. Of course Albus will be different. He's died and come back. Maybe it'll just take him time to get back to normal. 

"Of course I missed you," Scorpius says, pulling the sleeves of Albus's jumper down over his hands. The wool cushions the stone which still rests in his palm, holding it in place. "You're my best friend, Albus. But I... I didn't do anything at the funeral. I didn't know what to do. I was thinking most of the time, actually. Because I knew you could come back. I knew I could get you back. And here you are." 

Albus looks around at the warm, emerald green space they're sharing behind his hangings. "Here I am." His figure shimmers slightly as he moves, blinking into intangibility for a moment. Scorpius grips the stone tight and tries to forget that he saw anything.

 

Scorpius's neck aches. He groans and rolls over on Albus's bed. It must be morning because he can hear his dorm mates chatting as they get ready for school. He'd completely forgotten to set an alarm or anything, he'd forgotten school existed if he's being perfectly honest. The idea of getting up and getting dressed and going to lessons alone feels so weird. But then again, he's not alone.

He sits bolt upright, rubs his eyes, and looks around. Albus is gone. The sheets don't even look like they've been disturbed. It's as if he were never there at all. There are only two signs that last night was real: the pillow Scorpius had been hugging, which is now halfway down the bed, and the perfectly polished black stone, which gleams in the light spilling through a crack in the hangings. 

Scorpius picks the stone up, takes a breath, closes his eyes, and lets it turn over three times in his palm. 

"Good morning, Scorpius." 

He nearly collapses with relief at the sound of Albus's voice. He opens his eyes and grins up at his best friend, who is sitting cross-legged up by the bedhead again. 

"Morning, Albus," he says, cheerfully. "For a second I thought you'd disappeared." 

"I did disappear," Albus says, smiling. "I  _think_ , and correct me if I'm wrong, you have to be holding the Stone for me to be here." 

Scorpius looks down at the stone in his hand for a moment, then he lets it fall onto the bed. Albus disappears. As quickly as he can, Scorpius picks the stone back up and turns it over again. Albus blinks back into existence, grinning.

"You're not wrong," Scorpius says. 

"Apparently not. Well that's useful to know! You'll just have to keep holding on to me, won't you?"

Scorpius squeezes the little stone tightly in his hand. "I will." He gets up and draws the hangings back. All his dorm mates have, thankfully, left now. He and Albus are alone. "Want to come to breakfast with me, Albus? I wasn't looking forward to facing the Great Hall alone. I've avoided it so far, but I know people are going to stare. It'll be nice to have someone with me for moral support." He picks his robes up from the floor, and Albus hops off the bed. He's already wearing his robes, though he hadn't been a few seconds ago. 

"Of course I'll come. Monday is bacon day." 

Scorpius grins. "Your favourite." 

 

When Albus pauses in the doorway to the Great Hall, Scorpius accidentally walks through him. He hadn't realised Albus wasn't solid. He's like a ghost or something, only he doesn't feel quite so cold. In fact he doesn't feel like anything much at all. 

"Are these for me?" Albus asks, unperturbed, gazing up at the black drapes, which line the roof of the hall where the house banners would normally be.

Scorpius shakes himself, tries to forget that his best friend is apparently no longer a physical being, and nods. "For you and Craig. They put them up when they cancelled the Halloween feast, apparently. I think they're keeping them up until the, um, the memorial next week." 

Albus stares at him incredulously. "Hogwarts is having a memorial? For me? Possibly the most disappointing student for a generation? I thought I already had a funeral anyway."

"This is just a school thing I think," Scorpius says. "For the students. And you weren't- You're not disappointing, Albus. You're brilliant. You saved the world." 

Albus snorts. "Yeah, but not very well. When you did it you managed not to die." 

"People think you're a hero," Scorpius says, setting off for the Slytherin table. "You showed everyone who Delphi was, you came up with the idea to send the message to your dad, you tried to help him and you- you died unlocking the doors so we could get to her. You saved us, Albus. Your- you made made it possible." Scorpius sits down and hugs his robes around himself. 

Albus sits opposite him, in his usual seat. "At least it wasn't you she killed. And at least it wasn't Dad. People would miss him an awful lot more than me." 

Scorpius starts helping himself to toast. "People missed you an awful lot as well. Your brother and sister still haven't come back to school yet. Rose is upset."

"And you," Albus says, pointing across the table at him. "You missed me so much you had to find a way to bring me back. Because clearly you've learned nothing from any of our adventures. Weren't you paying attention to all the proof that bringing people back from the dead is a bad idea?" 

Scorpius's cheeks heat. "This isn't a Time-Turner, Albus. I'm not changing things, I'm just-"

"Meddling," Albus says, smirking. 

"You should be grateful," Scorpius mutters. "Without me you wouldn't be here." 

"I know," Albus says. "I am painfully aware." 

Scorpius avoids his eyes for a minute, methodically spreading marmalade onto his slices of toast. 

"Maybe we should talk about something else," Albus says finally, sounding slightly awkward. "Tell me about... Your new wand. What is it? Did you go to Ollivander's? Did your dad take you? I thought he didn't feel comfortable there."

Scorpius grins and draws his wand from his bag. He's glad to move on from the talk of death. This is far easier, this useless but excitable chatter. This is what he and Albus have always been best at, and finally,  _finally_ , it feels like he has his real best friend back again.

As he gives an enthusiastic speech about the qualities of his new fir wand, he doesn't notice people nearby staring at him, or pointedly looking away and bowing their heads. 

 

Lessons, Scorpius quickly discovers, just get in the way of spending time with Albus. His favourite thing about Hogwarts always used to be learning things. Having knowledge poured into his brain for him to digest, and coming out feeling smarter and stronger. But somehow learning is far less satisfying without having someone to do it with. He can't have Albus with him during lessons. He needs both hands for practicing wandwork or taking notes or potion making, and anyway, one of the teachers might spot the stone and ask about it, and it isn't something Scorpius wants to have to explain. 

So instead of being glad to be back at school, he's constantly fidgeting, mind elsewhere, and rather than hanging back to ask questions or discuss ideas with the teachers after each lesson, he's the first one out of the room, dashing off to somewhere, anywhere, where he can summon Albus back to him. 

The truth is, he feels lost without Albus. He's never been at Hogwarts without Albus, and he doesn't know how to do it. Classes feel dull without Albus's complaints, or muttered sarcastic comments, or entertaining little doodles. The halls feel empty without him stomping along in a bad mood, or going on and on about his latest wild plan for mayhem. Whenever Albus isn't there, Scorpius feels incomplete, and he's rapidly becoming obsessed with both him and the Resurrection Stone.

On Tuesday afternoon he sits in History of Magic and lets the stone roll backwards and forwards in his palm under the desk. It's so smooth and cool, and he enjoys the hard edges, and the irregular way it falls from face to face. He has no idea what Professor Binns is talking about. All he can think about is the conversation he'd been having with Albus at lunchtime. 

They'd been reminiscing about their train ride to school in second year, when Albus had snuck up to James's carriage and thrown a Dungbomb inside. It's one of the fondest memories of both their lives, and the hour they'd spent talking about it had been golden and happy, and Albus's laughter had been achingly beautiful. Scorpius needs to get back and hear him laugh again. He needs it like he needs air, and his chest feels tight just thinking about it. 

When the bell rings he doesn't wait to be dismissed. He grabs his stuff and sprints down to the dorm, feverishly turning the stone over three times as he goes. Albus appears from nowhere beside him, keeping pace with him. 

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" 

Scorpius grins, and looks at Albus, and it's like the world finds purpose again. Like the sun comes out. "To see you. Class just finished and I couldn't wait another second." 

"Wasn't it History of Magic?" Albus asks. He leans in close to Scorpius, teasing. "Isn't that your favourite subject?" 

"Of course it is, but if I hang around I get less time with you. You forget, Albus. I can't just sit in class and chat to you anymore. I have to maximise my spare time, to give you as much of my attention as I possibly can." 

Albus shifts sideways to walk right beside Scorpius. If he were really there, they'd be pressed together. Albus would be warm and solid. But he isn't. He's a ghost, or a shadow, or something. Scorpius moves away a couple of inches. 

"I'm flattered," Albus says. "But do you really want your grades to suffer on my behalf? You have a future to think about Scorpius. All these big dreams. Big, ambitious, Slytherin dreams." He turns round as he says it, walking backwards so he can look Scorpius in the eye. "Anyway, you love homework." 

Scorpius grasps the strap on his bag. "You're right. I do love homework. But... Things have changed. Maybe this is just temporary, but... There are more important things now." He looks at Albus and sees that his expression has gone all serious. The bright smile has faded, and his lips are a tight, concerned line. 

"I have some Pepper Imps," Scorpius says quickly, looking away, trying not to think about the fact that Albus is worried about him. "Down in the dorm. We can sit and eat them, tell some more stories. If you're really keen I'll even explain McGonagall's Transfiguration homework to you." 

" _You_ can eat the Pepper Imps," Albus says, but he doesn't seem to hate the idea too much, because he doesn't argue. He turns and keeps walking for a moment, then pauses in his stride, frowning at a windowsill down the corridor. "Isn't that your dad's owl?" 

Scorpius walks up beside him and sees the familiar eagle owl perched there, feathers ruffled like she's incredibly proud of herself. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks, approaching her.

She holds her leg out and hoots at him. 

"Yes, I know you're delivering a letter, but-" He unties the envelope and flips it over to find his dad's neat script, marking him out as the recipient. As he slits the envelope over he makes sure to keep the stone carefully pressed against his palm. He doesn't want to drop it and lose Albus now. 

He feels a flutter of wind as Albus moves up to look over his shoulder while he reads the short letter.

_Scorpius,_

_I hope things are well at school, or at least as well as they can be._

_Professor McGonagall wrote to me to say you seemed a little distracted in lessons yesterday, which of course I understand completely. If you'd find it easier to be at home for a few more days you'd be welcome here. I don't want to force you into anything, and I know you're capable of making your own decisions, but I just wanted you to know that the option is open._

_I also wanted to invite you for dinner tomorrow night. The last week or so has been exceptionally difficult for both of us, and there are a lot of things I'd like to talk to you about that haven't seemed appropriate to discuss before. It's been a long time since we just had dinner together. How would you feel about that?_

_I look forward to the possibility of seeing you tomorrow._

_Much love,_

_Your father_

Scorpius stares down at the words. His dad wants to have dinner with him, spend time with him, something they haven't done in years. It will eat into his time with Albus, but... 

"This was what you wanted," Albus says quietly. "Wasn't it? To talk to your dad..." He glances up at Scorpius. "You should go. Go and talk to him. I want you to."

"But then I won't-" Scorpius starts, but Albus gives him a fierce, blazing look. 

"This is what I wanted too. To sort things out with my dad. I never got the chance, Scorpius, but you have it right here. Please. Tell him how brave you were, like you wanted to." 

The parchment crumples in Scorpius's hands as he tightens his grip on it, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "It's not fair," Scorpius murmurs, voice tight and strained. "That you don't get to sort it all out. I'm sorry." 

"Stop it," Albus chides, firm but gentle. "Honestly, don't think about me. Think about you." 

Scorpius looks down at the stone in his hand. "I could give this to your dad. I could let him borrow it, and you could talk. He could say sorry. Then you wouldn't have to-"

"Scorpius," Albus says. "Don't. Just do this. I know you want to."

Scorpius takes a deep breath and looks down at his dad's writing. Finally he nods. "Okay." 

 

The dining room is silent apart from the chink of cutlery. Scorpius is playing with his food. It looks good, and he's hungry, and the smell is amazing, but he can't bring himself to eat. He feels like he's all tied up in knots, stomach and chest tight, wound up. He doesn't have a voice either. Every time he thinks of something to say, the idea of getting it out seems too difficult, so he sits in silence and doesn't eat, and wishes things were different than this. 

Draco is the one who breaks the silence. He clears his throat and sets his knife and fork down. "How have your lessons been so far this week? Are you studying anything interesting?" 

Scorpius swallows. "Professor McGonagall was showing us switching spells. Guinea pigs into guinea fowl and back again. My new wand's quite good for Transfiguration." 

"Didn't you have History of Magic yesterday?" Draco asks. "What are you talking about at the moment?" 

Scorpius chases a pea round his plate with his fork. "The 1332 troll rebellion. A load of Muggles and some wizards were trampled and bashed with clubs at a dinner party in Northumberland." He's aware that his voice sounds dull and uninterested, but he can't bring himself to care about trolls now. Not when the stone is weighing down his pocket, and Albus is so close but- 

Wait. There is no stone in his pocket. 

He drops his fork with a clatter and pats the pocket, then shoves his fingers inside and digs around. Nothing. Just fabric and a slightly sticky old Pepper Imp. 

Panic floods through him, rooting him there. All of a sudden he can't breathe. The knots in his chest have tightened to breaking point, and his hands have started shaking. There's nothing he can focus on beyond the fact that it's gone. Gone gone gone, and it could be anywhere. In the Floo network, on the floor at school, somewhere in the kitchen, under his chair... 

"I wonder when you'll study the 18th century Alchemy Renaissance," Draco muses, spearing a bit of lamb with his fork. "I'm not sure Professor Binns will do it justice, but I think you'd find it-" 

Scorpius jumps to his feet. "I need to go to the bathroom," he says, keeping his voice as calm as he possibly can when every word expends a bit of air he can't get back, and his heart is pounding hard enough to hurt, and the walls of the room feel like they're collapsing in on him. "I'll be back in a minute."

Draco frowns at him. "Are you alright? You don't look-"

"Fine," Scorpius says, already halfway to the door. "Fine." 

He pushes the door open and rushes out into the hall. It's cooler out here, which is good. He feels very hot all of a sudden, like his cheeks are on fire. It's almost enough to make him feel sick, but he pushes the nausea aside and hurries along. Somewhere at the end this corridor is the foyer. His coat is there. He might have left the stone in his coat. It's his best chance. 

Keep calm. Keep walking. Keep breathing. Find the stone.

He clenches his hands into fists to stop them shaking, and rushes headlong in the direction he thinks he should be going. Tears are blurring his vision and his brain is focused only on how empty his pocket feels, how Albus might be gone forever, how he might be alone now, really alone. 

Autopilot gets him down the hall, and he suddenly finds himself facing his dad's long, black, woollen cloak. He shoves it aside. It falls off the hook, and he tries to hang it back up, hands trembling. It takes him several goes before it stays. This time when he holds it aside he's more careful, but not that much more. The desperation to find his coat and find the stone is overwhelming.

He fumbles through his pockets one by one, rummaging and patting, checking and rechecking. His fingers are shaking and the panic is growing every time he finds nothing but fabric and empty air. Just as he's beginning to feel completely breathless and on the verge of full blown terror, he puts his hand into the final pocket and feels cool, smooth stone under his fingers. He snatches at it, picks it out, and as he looks down at it relief floods into every corner of his being. 

His knees give way and he stumbles back, collapsing onto the bottom step of the big flight of stairs. He curls up against the banister and cradles the stone against his chest. Tears choke him. His throat burns and his chest aches, and he struggles to snatch in gasps of air. Somehow, now he knows the stone is safe, the terror of it being lost is crashing in on him. What would he do without it? Without Albus? How would he survive? 

But it's okay. It's here. He's found it. Albus is here. 

He rests his forehead against the cool metal supports that hold up the wooden banister rails, and closes his eyes. His whole body is shaking with sobs now. It's too hard to hold himself together, so he doesn't. He still can't breathe. He feels like he's drowning in tears, suffocated by Albus's absence. If only he could summon Albus to him now, but he can't. Not here. This isn't something his dad needs to have any inkling of. 

He tries to slow his breathing, but the snatches of air he draws in aren't enough, and anything he gets seems to catch in his throat. He feels light headed. The world is closing in around him, and he feels weirdly floaty and disoriented. The staircase feels like it's sloping and spinning beneath him, and he grips whatever he can to try and hold himself steady. His heart is beating so hard and fast he thinks he might be dying. What if he dies out here and his dad doesn't find him for hours? What if-

"Scorpius." 

Swift footsteps rush from somewhere nearby, and he feels warm, solid arms fold around his shoulders, drawing him in. Fingers trail through his hair, and he gasps and gulps for air. 

"You're safe," Draco murmurs. "I'm here. Just... Try to breathe." 

Scorpius tries. It takes several minutes before he stops feeling like he's about to drop dead on the spot. His breathing evens out and his heart slows. Eventually he realises he's shivering in his dad's arms, dripping with tears and snot, a total mess. But the stone is still clutched safely in his hand. 

"Sorry," he mumbles. once he's recovered enough to speak.

"Don't apologise," his dad says, letting him struggle upright, but keeping a hand on his back the whole time. "I can only imagine... It was exceptionally difficult when we lost your mother. I know you relied on Albus for a long time, and now he's-" 

Scorpius shakes his head. "Please don't say it." It isn't true. Albus is still here. He has the stone right here in his hand. Albus is with him.

Draco bows his head. "This must be awful for you. I hope I haven't forced you into doing too much too soon. Going back to school this week, I didn't know if that was-"

"I wanted to go," Scorpius says. He draws in a shaky breath and starts wiping his face on his sleeve, before his dad summons a tissue from thin air and hands it to him. He looks at it for a moment, then takes it and mops himself up. "I  _like_ school. I didn't want to sit around anymore."

"But this, just now. The pressure on you, to be strong, and brave. You don't have to-"

Scorpius flies to his feet before he realises what he's doing. He feels very hot and his chest is tightening again. "I'm okay. This isn't- it's not about... About Albus. I was just being stupid." 

Draco gets to his feet, one hand on the banister, grey eyes heavy with concern. "None of this is stupid. You've just lost your-"

"I haven't lost him!" Scorpius shouts. He doesn't know where it comes from, but the words tear out of him, leaving him feeling slightly stunned. He swallows. "I want to go back to school," he murmurs. "I have Charms in the morning. We're doing Summoning Charms. They might come up in our O.W.L. I don't want to miss them." 

Draco nods. He draws himself up straight. "Very well. But if there's anything I can-"

"There's nothing," Scorpius says. "I'd just like some Floo powder." 

Fifteen minutes later, Scorpius collapses onto the rug in the Slytherin Common Room. He feels sick and exhausted, and like the heart has been ripped out of him, empty of all energy and emotion. He drags himself up to bed and falls asleep on top of his covers, hangings open, all the lights on, still wearing his ash stained school uniform. 

 

_Scorpius bursts through the door into the church, borrowed wand raised, ready to fight. Albus is kneeling on the ground a few feet away, Harry standing beside him, protecting him. Delphi is flying over the scene, grinning, deflecting spells and retaliating with her own._

_Among the chaos, Albus turns his wand to the other door, the one Hermione and Ron are hiding behind, and he starts to shout, "Aloho-"_

_"Avada Kedavra," Delphi snarls._

_Scorpius doesn't see the spell, doesn't see it hit. He doesn't even notice where it's aimed. Delphi has been throwing spells everywhere._

_But then he hears the howl of agony behind him, and ice floods through his veins._

_He turns and there is Albus, lying still on the floor. He could be asleep except his eyes are open, and Harry is curled over him, gripping him and screaming. Albus's face is frozen in a perpetual glare of determination. Those eyes are so green, so piercing, but for the first time ever they're dull and empty of fire._

_There's another sound behind him, a gasp that's quiet, but somehow cuts through all the noise._

_"No," Ginny breathes. "Albus..." Then suddenly she's ablaze with anger and pain, like all the fight in Albus has flooded into her. "You dare hurt my son?" She roars, as she turns her wand on Delphi and starts duelling to the death._

_Meanwhile Scorpius collapses to his knees and takes Albus's hand. Harry's trembling body is in the way but he doesn't care. He doesn't believe it. Albus isn't dead. He isn't gone. He can't just leave. He can't. He can't._

_Fire and ice rages across the nave of the tiny church, but it's nothing to Scorpius, because Albus is still lying there, still not responding, still playing this cruel joke, and Scorpius's world is shattering like glass around him, and he's falling and falling and falling and-_

 

Scorpius wakes in pitch black, fear clawing at his heart. For a second he has no idea where he is. His face is wet and his mouth is dry. He scrabbles around for his wand but doesn't find it. Instead he finds the reassuring facets of the Resurrection Stone. 

He turns it over three times and the sheets rustle. Albus sits there, a faint glow emanating from him. 

Scorpius wants to throw his arms round Albus, to cling to him, reassure himself that Albus is really solid, really there. But Albus isn't solid. He isn't there. Not like he used to be. So all Scorpius can do is bury his face in his hands and let the tears flow. 

"What's wrong?" Albus asks, shuffling closer. "Did it not go well with your dad?" 

Scorpius sniffs and wipes his eyes with his fingers. "What? With my-? Oh." He scrubs his sleeve across his face and takes a breath. "Well... I thought I lost the stone, so I panicked and he found me crying on the stairs. Then I told him you weren't dead and came back here. So not particularly well, no. And now I'm having nightmares about you dying and I can't even hug you, because-" 

"Because I  _am_  dead," Albus says, looking at him. 

Scorpius looks up at him. "But you're here," he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I can see you, I can talk to you. How are you here if you're dead?"

"You're being stupid," Albus says bluntly. "You can see ghosts, and they're dead. You can talk to portraits, and they're dead. You talk to the portraits downstairs all the time. I'm just like that. I'm gone, Scorpius."

Scorpius stares at him, stunned. "How can you say something like that about yourself?" 

Albus shrugs. "Because you know it's true." He crosses his legs. "I thought you were supposed to be the logical one. You know, the smart one. I thought you were supposed to think more clearly than this. I'm the mad, impulsive one who tries to bring back dead people."

"Saving Cedric seemed like a good idea at the time," Scorpius says, crossing his arms. "It wasn't so stupid. It might have worked. It was a nice thing to do." He wants Albus to give in. He wants to stop talking about this. He doesn't have the energy. He still feels so tired, and overwhelmed, and the dream is still fresh in his mind.

Albus smiles and leans closer to him. Conceding is never something he's been good at. "It also created a world where Voldemort was alive, and then it got me killed."

Scorpius looks away from him, and wipes his nose on his sleeve. "Are you going to continue being difficult, or are you done now?" 

"In an absurd turn of events, I think I'm going to carry on being your voice of reason, actually." Albus folds his arms, jaw set. "Don't do this to yourself, Scorpius. You know how to let go. You've done it before."

"Maybe I only managed that because of you," Scorpius shoots at him, exhaustion and sadness flaring up into irritation. 

"Maybe," Albus agrees, "but you still did it. We both know you can do it again." He eyes the stone in Scorpius's hand, and Scorpius knows that if he could he'd be trying to wrestle it away from him. 

"Can I?" Scorpius asks, tightening his grip on the small, smooth rock, his final connection to Albus. 

Albus nods, very serious. "I think so." 

 

Scorpius tries. He tries really hard over the next couple of days to stop thinking about the stone, to stop checking on it every few minutes. He tries to pay attention in lessons, to ask his normal questions, to stay behind and talk to the teachers. He tries to get points for Slytherin with spectacular answers and spell work, but everything he does turns out flat. 

He can't get his Summoning Charm to work at all for Flitwick. Whenever he tries to show McGonagall a Switching Spell nothing happens. He doesn't have the heart or the energy to do his homework. He just sits in the library and stares at his closed books for an hour or two before giving up.

And whenever he thinks about the fact that he's trying to move on, that he's trying to let Albus die, he feels like he's about throw up, or burst into tears. Those are the times when he gives in and grabs the stone and just holds it. 

In his spare time, behind his closed hangings at night, or locked in an empty classroom during break or lunchtime, he still summons Albus to him, but he doesn't like doing it. Albus is quieter now, more melancholy. He doesn't seem to want to be there. He's either very quiet, with only the occasional tight smile, or he tries to persuade Scorpius to let him go. On Friday after class they get into an argument so heated that Scorpius throws the stone across the room and collapses onto the ground sobbing, Albus's final words still ringing in his ears.

"Let me go, Scorpius. Either let me go, or come with me, but I don't want to be here anymore." 

_Come with me._

It wasn't something Scorpius had even considered before. The idea of giving up, of following Albus to wherever he is now. Heaven, hell, the great beyond... 

He could do it. He could go with Albus. He might even see his mum again if he did that... But the thing is, Scorpius likes being alive. He likes fighting and struggling and learning and loving. He likes being in the world. And he doesn't want to leave his dad. 

Joining Albus isn't what he wants. He wants Albus to join him. To come back and be fully alive and exactly who he was before. The same small, grumpy, smart boy who'd sat on Bathilda Bagshot's doorstep, with snow in his hair and jack o'lantern candlelight dancing in his eyes, and come up with a plan to save the world. The same boy who'd stood on top of the Hogwarts Express, alight with adrenaline, and asked the Trolley Witch her name. The same ruffled, sleepy boy who'd groaned and dragged himself upright in bed when Scorpius had wanted to talk about the world where Voldemort had ruled. That's what Scorpius wants more than anything, but maybe... Maybe that Albus is gone forever. Maybe Albus, Scorpius's best friend, doesn't exist anymore. 

Scorpius doesn't want to keep hurting him. He doesn't want to keep dragging Albus back into this world over and over again if it's going to make him miserable. But he also can't face Albus just stopping. Without the stone Albus is just a bit of bare earth with a blackthorn sapling growing out of it. He can't lose Albus forever. He can't. He doesn't know how to. 

Apparently grieving isn't something you can be good at. Scorpius had thought he'd had plenty of practice. When his mum died it had been horrible, but he'd expected it to be an experience he could rely on, that would shape him and make him stronger, make him able to deal with whatever life or death threw at him next. But he doesn't feel strong now. He feels lost and broken, and he wants his best friend back. Because losing Albus isn't anything like losing Astoria. Somehow, incredibly, it feels even worse. 

Scorpius loses track of how long he stays sitting on the cold stone floor of the disused Charms classroom, hugging his knees and staring across at the little black stone, which sits on the other side of the room and reflects the flickering firelight. The sun is setting when he finally drags himself stiffly off the floor and goes down for dinner. The blood red light floods the room, sparkling on each facet of the stone, bathing Scorpius in some of the last warmth of Autumn. He picks the stone up, forces himself to eat something beneath the darkening sky reflected in the Great Hall ceiling, then goes and tries to do some homework. 

The stone sits on the desk beside his books while he works. He's writing a Potions essay, exactly the kind of thing Albus would have loved. It's all about theories surrounding the use of knotgrass in healing draughts. They would have argued about it for hours, squabbling and laughing, making fun of each other's work. Albus probably would have hated Scorpius's ideas about knotgrass and fluxweed being used as a counterbalance. 

"But they don't oppose each other, Scorpius. The fluxweed is there to make things more susceptible to change. It's there for catalytic reasons. The knotgrass is what does the work. You can't say it's a counterbalance when that's blatantly untrue." 

Scorpius smiles to himself and scratches the sentence out, because of course Albus would have been right. He was always better at Potions. 

As he thinks about Albus muttering to himself, poring over books, arguing with the theories in them, the first hot tear rolls down his cheek and splatters on his parchment, blotching the ink. Scorpius taps his wand on the essay, casts Impervius, and tries to keep writing, but after five minutes the parchment is wet with fallen tears. They gather in puddles, and trickle across the page, like rain falling onto glass. Every few seconds Scorpius brushes them away, sniffs, and keeps going, but the tears won't stop. After ten minutes he can't see anymore.

His vision blurs, and he gives up, burying his face in his hands and letting the tears fall. 

The common room is full of people but he can't bring himself to care. They all already know the truth, the truth which Scorpius is only just beginning to understand now, that Albus is dead and won't come back, and that Scorpius is heartbroken by it. 

No one comes and tries to talk to him. He doesn't think anyone is staring at him either, and he's grateful for that. This is probably what they all expected from him, blatant and unrestrained grief. 

It takes nearly half an hour before he's completely wrung dry. He has a headache, his face feels raw, and despite the Impervius, his Potions essay is a wreck. All his remaining energy goes into packing up his books and parchment, and when he's done, he picks up his bag and the stone and goes upstairs. 

He finally knows what he has to do and how he's going to do it. Of course, thought and action are two completely different things, but he has to try. Tomorrow is Saturday, the day of the memorial. He's going to go and he's going to say goodbye to Albus, then he's going to take the stone and he's going to get rid of it. He could visit Albus's grave and leave it there. Or maybe he could bury it... He'd destroy it, but it's an ancient magical artefact and he could never forgive himself for that.

He will do this. He  _can_ do this. He can let Albus go and he can move on. He can. 

He puts the little black stone on his bedside table and looks at it. Maybe he should summon Albus here now and tell him what the plan is... Would he be proud? Would he think it's a good idea? What if he meant what he said earlier, about Scorpius coming with him? What if he'd prefer that? Scorpius doesn't want to fight with Albus again, not now. Not when it's been such an exhausting day and tomorrow is going to be hell. They can talk tomorrow. And Scorpius  _will_ say goodbye. 

 

It's a beautiful morning. The forest is a conflagration of burnished gold and orange, ruffled by the breeze. The last warm rays of sun fall in long streams across the frozen ground, lighting the swirling silver mist. Grass and moss and grey stone are coated with a fine layer of silver frost that makes the morning shimmer. Across the grounds, a couple of ordinary deer graze by the edge of the forest, breath steaming in the frigid air, serene passage sending the mist into eddies and spirals. 

The whole school is gathered on the edge of lake, standing in lines and looking out at the iron grey waters. Somewhere under the waves is the Slytherin dungeon, where both Craig and Albus once lived and laughed and worked and wasted away hours. Not too far away is the big beech tree where Albus and Scorpius would sit in the summer and study. It's already almost bare of leaves, but today a little robin is perched in the lower branches, singing his heart out. 

Scorpius stands at the back of the ranks of students. Over the crowd he can see James and Lily at the front. They look almost lost without their parents, and without their brother, like they suddenly don't quite know what to do with themselves. Scorpius could have been there with them, but he'd rather hide away here. It means he can escape quickly at the end without having to hear everyone's sympathies. It means that if all the words and tributes get too much he can slip away without anyone noticing. 

It's difficult to hear what's happening from this far away. Professor McGonagall's magically magnified voice bounces and echoes, and dissipates over the grounds before it reaches him, but he catches a few words. 

"Ambition and courage" "heroic" "died fighting" "too young" "more to give" 

"We must remember and honour them," she says, as the wind changes direction, blowing in across the lake, carrying her voice further over the crowd. "They both died for something which is so important. They died fighting to preserve the world we live in, and we cannot let their sacrifice go to waste. 

"I don't expect any of you to lay down your lives like this. This is a terrible, tragic loss. But I hope these two boys can be an example to us all. That when it comes to a choice between what is right, and what is easy, that we can find the courage to defend our family, our friends, our school, and our lives. That we can stand up and make difficult decisions, and push ourselves beyond what we would have thought ourselves capable of. Because there are some things in the world that are worth fighting and giving everything for. 

"Remember Craig Bowker and Albus Severus Potter. Remember their bravery, their cunning, ambition, and resourcefulness. And most importantly, remember their love."

Scorpius puts a hand in his pocket and holds onto the stone as he listens. He wonders what Albus would have thought of all this. Of the speeches, and the lines of students. He probably would have liked it being by the lake. He always liked the lake. And it's a nice day for it, he would have appreciated that. This is a good day to say goodbye. 

 

At the end of the ceremony, Scorpius is the first to head back to the castle. Everyone else stays and mills around, but he rushes off. He can see Rose eyeing him across the crowd, but he does his best not to look at her. He doesn't have time to talk. There's something he needs to do. 

It's not easy to get to Albus's grave alone. He takes the Floo to a wizarding pub on the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole, and spills out onto the carpet in a dark back room. He lets himself out through a side door and starts hiking across the fields. 

The cemetery is out in the middle of the countryside, a few miles away. It's a beautiful spot, especially when the sun is shining like it is today, but it's remote, and the walk isn't easy. Scorpius follows a track that skirts round several muddy fields, crosses a stream, a couple of stiles, and winds through a wood. There's a bite to the air, and frost keeps the ground from being too squashy under foot, but the exercise warms Scorpius up, and by the time he's reached the low stone wall and rusted iron kissing gate that mark the entrance to the cemetery he's sweating slightly and breathing hard. 

Albus's tree is near the middle of the plot, surrounded by low, fieldstone graves, and growths of wild flowers. It's wild out here, a bit windswept. They're in a valley surrounded by trees and fields and hills. The village is just visible in the distance, and Scorpius can see the Burrow and the Potter House standing out on their own at the edge. It's so quiet and peaceful. Scorpius thinks that if you had to be buried anywhere, this wouldn't be a bad place for it. 

He stops in front of Albus's little blackthorn sapling and takes the stone out. He turns it over three times in his hand and waits.

It takes a moment before Albus appears, but then he flickers into being, standing next to his tree. He looks around for a moment, then turns to Scorpius. 

"Where are we?"

Scorpius wipes his nose on his sleeve, then gestures to where Albus is standing. "That's your grave. Your wand was snapped, but your mum and dad still wanted you to have a tree, so they planted one.

Albus looks around again. For a moment he says nothing, and Scorpius wonders if he's speechless. He runs a hand down the trunk of the tree, then glances out at the view. "That's my house. You can see my house from here." 

Scorpius nods. "Yes, you can." 

Albus smiles. "It's quite nice. You know, as graveyards go." He looks at Scorpius. "Why are we here?" 

Scorpius swallows and takes a breath. "I thought about what you said. About how I should let you go. A-and I decided you're right-"

"I usually am," Albus says, grinning.

"Yes, well... I-I'm going to leave the stone here. And then I won't touch it again. I just wanted to... To say goodbye first." 

"Oh," Albus says, grin fading. 

"Yes," Scorpius says. He shuffles his feet on the ground. "I know you don't want to be here, and you shouldn't be. You're- you're dead, and I'm going to have to accept that. I  _want_ to accept that. And I want to let you go. I don't want this-" he gestures to Albus's form, which is flickering slightly in the sunlight, "to be the only way I can remember you. I think you deserve better than that." 

Albus digs his hands into his pockets and looks down at his feet. "Thank you." 

"You're my best friend, Albus. You'll always be my best friend, and..." He fiddles with the cuffs of his coat. "And I'll miss you. But I think I'd rather miss you than keep making you miserable." 

Albus steps away from the tree and walks toward Scorpius. He stops a few feet away, and reaches out, like he wants to take Scorpius's hand. "You're my best friend too. I wish-" he shakes his head. "I wish it had ended differently. But you'll be okay. I hope you have a really good life, Scorpius. I hope we see each other again someday, but not for a long time." He smiles, and Scorpius thinks if he sees the glint of a pearlescent tear in his eye.

Scorpius swallows and looks away. "Don't do that. You're making it worse." 

Albus gives a slightly snuffly laugh. "Sorry." 

"It's alright..." Scorpius looks down at the stone in his hand. He should drop it or throw it away, but he can't. Now it's there he can't bring himself to put it down. He's never going to be able to. He isn't strong enough. He's too scared. A world without Albus isn't a world he wants to face. But he hasto. He  _has_ to.

 "Albus," he murmurs. "How do I do this?" 

"I don't know," Albus says, also looking at the stone. "Just.. Be brave." 

Scorpius nods, and summons every ounce of courage he has. "Goodbye, Albus." 

And as Albus steps forward, arms outstretched, like he's ready to wrap Scorpius in one final, tight hug, Scorpius turns his hand over and the stone falls to the ground. Albus is blown away in the wind, and Scorpius stands completely alone in the chilly graveyard. 

For a moment he stares down at the stone, then he steps over it and goes and sits with his back to the thin trunk of Albus's tree. It's freezing cold, and he shivers and draws his limbs in tight. He hugs his knees to his chest, buries his face in them, and closes his eyes. It would be sensible to leave, but he doesn't want to. He can say goodbye, but he's not walking away. He's never going to do that. 

Time melts away. He and the tree are buffeted by a cold, gusty wind. Somewhere overhead the sun starts to set. The sky turns dusky blue and pink and purple. Thin clouds scud across the darkening sky. The moon comes out and the stars start to shine, and it gets colder and colder. 

Scorpius shivers and curls up tighter. Hunger gnaws at his stomach. At Hogwarts they'll be serving dinner. He should start walking so he can get back to school, but that would mean getting up. That would mean leaving. And he's not ready. He wants to stay with Albus forever. He wants to sit here among the grass and the flowers and the stones, and keep Albus company. 

His breath starts to mist the air. His hands are aching with cold, and he can't stop shivering. He thinks about casting a Warming Charm on himself, but his fingers are too stiff and numb to draw his wand. He reaches down and tries to rub his toes through his shoes, wanting to bring some life back into them so he can leave when it gets really cold, but his fingers are clumsy and won't quite work properly. And just when he's wondering if he's stayed too long, if he's frozen in place and will never get up again, he hears voices at the edge of the graveyard. Familiar voices. 

"Harry, it's freezing up here. You should have brought your other cloak." 

"It's fine, Gin. We're not planning to stay long anyway, are we? I just want to light it up and check it's tidy, and- There's someone there." 

Scorpius lifts his head and sees the pair of them silhouetted against the darkening, turquoise horizon. They're holding hands, and they're both staring at him through the darkness. Then, Ginny draws her wand.

"Lumos." 

Silver light flares through the cemetery, and she gasps. Scorpius turns his head away, covering his eyes against the glare. He feels a bit disoriented, like he can't entirely comprehend they're there.

"Scorpius," Harry says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here? Are you-" 

"He's freezing," Ginny says. Scorpius hears her feet rustling through the grass, then he feels warm hands on his shoulders. "Harry, call Draco." She kneels down in front of Scorpius, and he looks at her. 

"I'm okay," he says, voice soft. He feels exhausted. "I just wanted to sit with him for a bit." 

"I know," Ginny says gently. "I understand. I'm going to cast a Warming Charm over you, okay?" She starts pulling off her cloak, and wrapping it round his shoulders, and he tries to protest that she'll get cold, but she ignores him. 

Over her shoulder a flickering silver light is visible, and Scorpius can hear Harry muttering to himself. 

"Come on. Stupid charm. When I need it, it won't- Expecto Patronum. Merlin, will you work? I need you. Expecto  _Patronum_." This time the silver light erupts through the cemetery, nearly blinding Scorpius. "Take this message to Draco Malfoy: we're at Albus's grave, Scorpius is here, come as quickly as you can." 

The light disappears as fast as it had come, and then Scorpius feels warmth flooding over him. Ginny's charm. It seeps into his bones. He's never felt so warm and content in his life. His toes and fingers tingle with it, and he closes his eyes and relaxes. It's so glorious, this warmth, and he never wants it to fade. 

"Thanks," he whispers. 

"Okay," Ginny says, and her fingers brush through his hair. "It's okay." 

"I came to say goodbye," Scorpius says. "After the memorial, I wanted to- and then I didn't want to leave him."

Ginny nods, and when Scorpius looks up he can see tears sparkling in her eyes as the wandlight floods her face. "I know. I know."

"He's dead," Scorpius murmurs. He doesn't know why, but all of a sudden he needs to say it out loud to someone, because he hasn't yet, and Ginny feels like someone he can say it to. "He's gone. He's-"

Ginny hugs him. "Yes," she says. "Yes, but it's alright. You're safe, that's the important thing now. Your dad's coming." 

Scorpius clings to her, arms stiff and tired, and he buries his face in her shoulder, and he thinks he might be crying. 

 

Hours later, Scorpius is curled up on the sofa by the fire in the Manor library. There are several blankets wrapped round him, and another Warming Charm enfolds him like a bubble. A mug of cocoa steams on the coffee table in front of him. He stills feels slightly shivery, but his fingers and toes seem to have just about returned to their normal state. He hadn't really realised how cold he was until people started trying to warm him up. 

The door opens, and he looks round to see his dad walk in. 

"How are you feeling now?" Draco asks. 

Scorpius gathers the blanket tighter under his chin. "Better." 

His dad nods. "That's good." He pauses in the doorway for a moment, then walks across and perches on the edge of the couch. Scorpius curls his feet up to give him room to sit down properly. 

"I didn't know..." Draco starts, then stops. He twists his fingers in his lap and looks at Scorpius. "I didn't know you wanted to visit him. You could have asked, and I would have taken you. Any time you wanted." 

Scorpius curls his knees up tighter and rests his head on the sofa arm so he doesn't have to look at his dad. "I didn't mean to stay. I lost track of time. Once I got there I didn't want to leave him. But I was going to go back to school... eventually. I wouldn't have stayed out all night." 

"How did you even get there?" Draco asks. "It's in the middle of nowhere." 

"After the memorial," Scorpius says, picking at his blanket. "I Floo'd to that pub in Ottery St Catchpole, and then I walked."

"You walked?" Draco asks, incredulous. "You walked all that way? And then you stayed. And if Harry and Ginny hadn't found you when they did-" he breaks off, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were going? Why didn't you tell me?" 

Scorpius stares down at the tartan pattern on the blanket. Over the last couple of hours while he's been sitting here, while his dad has been fussing over him, while he's been taken care of and warmed up, he's been thinking. Albus had been right with what he'd said a few days ago. Scorpius wants to talk to his dad again, to sort things out, and if there's anyone who can help him get through this, then it's Draco. He needs his dad. 

"I-I..." He swallows, then looks up. "I found the Resurrection Stone, Dad," he says. "The stone that Harry took into the forest, when he was about to die. I thought I could use it to bring Albus back. And I did use it, and he did come back, sort of. But he wasn't the same. He was a-a shadow or something. He wasn't himself. So I decided I should get rid of the stone and stop using it, and today after the memorial, I went to the grave on my own so I... So I could say goodbye to him." 

Draco stares at him, stunned. "You found the Resurrection Stone? But I thought it was lost..." 

"I worked out where it was," Scorpius mutters. "I thought it was the only way to get Albus back. But... But there was no way to get him back. And then after I said goodbye to him I didn't want to leave. So I stayed. And lost track of the time." 

Draco blinks several times. He seems lost for words.

Scorpius sits up. "Dad, I'm not going to try and get him back again. I'm going to let him go now. I think it's better that way. And I want..." He swallows. "I want you to help me." He plucks at the blankets and tries to summon up his courage. "In Godric's Hollow, when you hugged me... I liked that. And there were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, that maybe I would have told you if things had turned out differently. And I still want to talk to you and... And fix things with you. And I can't help but think that maybe... maybe this is a good place to start?" 

Scorpius looks at his dad, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. "I think you can help me. Because you lost Mum, and she was your best friend. You loved her. And now I've lost Albus, and he was my best friend, and I loved him. We could talk. About this. I-I think I want to." He ducks his head and tucks a bit of hair behind his ear. His fingers are still a bit shaky, but at least they're warm now. 

Draco considers him for a moment. "Are you comfortable? You look squashed."

Scorpius frowns. His knees are aching a bit from being so tightly curled up. Cautiously he relaxes a bit, letting his toes almost but not quite brush the edge of his dad's cushion. 

"Come here," Draco says, and he pats his knee. "Put them on me. Just this once." 

Scorpius blinks in surprise, then grins and slithers down on the sofa, putting his feet in his dad's lap.

"They're freezing," Draco says, tucking the blanket tighter round them. "You should be more careful with yourself." 

Scorpius smiles sheepishly. "Sorry." 

"I'll let you off for today." He rubs Scorpius's feet through the blanket, working some warmth back into them. "You know, sometimes I like to think about my favourite memories of your mother. It hurts, but sometimes it helps."

"Does it?" Scorpius asks. 

Draco nods, and glances at him. "What's your favourite memory of him? Of Albus?" 

"The first time I met him on the Hogwarts Express," Scorpius says, need needing even a second to think.

"I'd like to hear about it," Draco says. "If you don't mind telling me." 

Scorpius shakes his head. "No. Okay!" He rolls over so he can look at his dad, and he starts telling him about the journey. About how Albus had come into the carriage. About the conversation with Rose. About how Albus had asked about his sweets. About how they'd eaten Pepper Imps together for the whole journey, and they'd talked about everything, from how nervous they were, to how excited Scorpius was for their first History of Magic lesson. 

And after that they talk about Scorpius's favourite things about Albus, the things he wants to remember about him. His smile. How he'd always been happy to talk in the middle of the night. How they'd always been there for each other when one of them was sad or scared or upset. How Albus had always been so stubborn and determined. How amazed Scorpius had been when he'd actually jumped off the top of the train. How Albus had terrible taste in books and music, and was terrible at Gobstones but brilliant at Wizard's Chess. How he hadn't always been a very good listener, but he was great at cheering Scorpius up. 

Then they talk a bit about Astoria, and a little about Godric's Hollow, and after that Scorpius starts to feel genuinely exhausted, so they sit there quietly for a bit, while his eyes flutter open and closed. 

"Do you want the last of your cocoa?" Draco asks at some point

"Mmm?" Scorpius asks, dragging his eyes open. "Oh. I don't know." He thinks about it for a bit, falling asleep and awake again several times, before finally deciding that yes. He does want it. 

It takes a considerable effort to drag himself upright, but it's worth it. The cocoa, although now a bit cold, is rich and creamy, and really good. He drains it all in one go, then puts the mug down and curls up against his dad's side. Draco slips an arm round his shoulders. 

"I think you should go to bed," he says, ruffling Scorpius's hair. 

"I like it here," Scorpius mumbles. 

Draco laughs. "I know, but you'd like your bed more. Come on. Up you get." 

They stumble to their feet, and Draco helps Scorpius along the corridor to his room. He tucks Scorpius into bed like he used to when Scorpius was much younger, and he sits there and strokes Scorpius's hair, while the stars Astoria once painted on the ceiling wheel and dance and glow above them. 

"I'm going to leave you to sleep," Draco says finally. "I'll be down the hall if you need me." 

"Okay," Scorpius murmurs.

His dad doesn't move. He just keeps sitting there and running his fingers through his hair. "Are you okay?" He asks, after several more minutes. 

Scorpius opens his eyes and looks up at his dad. "No," he mumbles. "But I will be." 

His dad nods, leans down and kisses him on the forehead. "Goodnight. I love you." 

Scorpius smiles and buries his face in his pillow. He feels exceptionally warm all of a sudden, and he can't help but think that Albus would be happy for him. "Love you too."

Draco gives his hair one last ruffle, then gets up and leaves the room. The door closes behind him, and Scorpius is left in the dark. He sinks gradually into sleep, and as he does he can't help but start to believe that eventually things will be okay. 


End file.
